


All Sorts of Problematic

by becameapasttime (mitslits)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Gramander, M/M, PWP, Tentacle Porn, and sexy things being done with them, seriously y'all there are tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9190664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/becameapasttime
Summary: An unfortunate encounter with one of Newt Scamander's magical creatures leaves Graves with a small problem. His arms have been replaced with tentacles.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This goes exactly where you expect it to from the summary, like honestly.

This had been a mistake from the very beginning. Graves’ back slams into the rough brick of the alley wall and he glares across the street. “Scamander! You’re supposed to have a handle on these beasts of yours!” he shouts over the sounds of a rampant squid… thing. 

Graves’ knowledge of magical creatures is patchy at best.  

“Terribly sorry, but they do have minds of their own, you know,” Newt calls back from his own hiding place. 

Graves rolls his eyes to the sky. “Just get that thing back in your case.” 

Newt pulls out a vial from inside a coat pocket, unplugging the stopper with his teeth. He spreads the liquid liberally over his hands and up his arms, applying it to his face as well.   

Graves peeks out from his place in the alley, assessing the current situation.

Some sort of highly oversized tentacled creature is pulling itself along the streets of New York City with said tentacles. They make wet, popping noises as they unsucker from buildings, automobiles, anything that happens to be in its way.

Graves and Newt meet up behind an overturned car, Newt offering the vial out towards Graves.

“Put this on any exposed skin,” Newt instructs him. “It’d be best if it doesn’t touch you at all. You haven’t built up an immunity to its toxins like I have, but that should help.”

Graves glances at the giant creature and sighs. Never a dull day as the Director of Magical Security.

Per Newt’s instructions, he begins applying the preventative.  He’s got one arm completely done up, and is just reaching in for more when he hears a startled “Watch out!”

Graves looks up just in time to get a faceful of tentacle. A face that had not yet been applied with the antidote. A strange, stinging sensation spreads over him from one cheek to the other, across the bridge of his nose, down towards his lips, up towards his eyes…

The last thing he sees is Newt’s concerned face bending over him before black overtakes him in a wave.

Graves wakes up to unfamiliar surroundings. Wooden slats lie overhead, and he’s lying on a thin mattress with an even thinner pillow. His memories of what have led him here are fuzzy but he thinks he remembers something about a squid and his face becoming well acquainted with its flailing tentacles.

How strange.

Sitting up, Graves scrubs a hand over his face. Or at least he attempts to. In place of where a normal, five-fingered appendage once was, there’s only a long, gray… tentacle. 

“Mr. Scamander,” Graves says, noting the presence of the other man beside him. “Might I ask _why_ this unfortunate incident has occurred?”  

Newt bites his bottom lip. “Well, the Aquinomas has an unusual defense mechanism-” he begins, but Graves cuts him off with a wave of what used to be his arm. 

“I can see that,” Graves says. “What I want to know is why this beast was allowed out in the first place.”

Newt sighs. “The Aquinomas is attracted to large bodies of water. It seems the pull of the Atlantic became too strong for it to resist. Strange, really, they’re normally very lazy creatures.” Newt shakes his head slightly before getting to his feet.

Graves gets a sudden, horrifying thought, struggling to throw back the covers. He manages to sort of shove them to the side with his tentacles and heaves a sigh of relief. His legs are still his legs.

“How do we go about fixing this?” Newt muses, eyes narrowed and one hand on his chin.

Instantly the blood drains from Graves’ face. “You don’t _know_?” he asks, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Newt blushes slightly, chewing on his bottom lip again. “I’m afraid I don’t. But not to worry, I’m sure I can figure out something!” he says, a false brightness overlaying his concern. “I came up with the original preventative, after all, I’m sure there’s a way to reverse it.”

Graves groans. 

It isn’t until Newt starts puttering about that Graves realizes he’s not entirely sure where they are. 

“Where are we?” he asks, eying their somewhat-cramped surroundings.

It’s a cozy little place, golden light filtering in through the wooden sideboard, a staircase off to one side.

“My suitcase,” Newt says, as if that’s a perfectly normal location.

Graves blinks, taking this in. Well. It’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened to him today.

Something that sounds very large roars just outside the door, and Graves’ head whips towards it, instantly on the alert.

“Oh, don’t mind the animals. They’re always a bit noisy. You’ll get used to it after a bit,” Newt reassures him with a kind smile. He turns back to whatever he’s got bubbling on the stove, adding a pinch of something bright pink to the concoction.

Curiosity tugs Graves over towards the door. “Can I see them?” he asks.

Newt looks up, frowning. “Alright. Just… maybe don’t touch anything.”

Graves rolls his eyes and flops one tentacle over his heart. “I promise I won’t.” With that, he exits the cabin, emerging into a world of varied habitats. It takes his breath away at first, but he doesn’t show it beyond a slight straightening of his spine.

This case of Newt’s is really something else.

Graves wanders among the animals until he feels a strange tug in his gut. The sudden urge to find water embeds itself in him, and he seems to know exactly where to go. He follows his new inner compass until he finds himself standing in front of a suspended globe of water, hovering a few feet over the ground.

The pull in his gut only gets worse, leads Graves to the very edge of the water. His promise not to touch anything rings in his ears, but he can’t help it. It’s just so… intoxicating.

Entranced, Graves reaches out, slipping a tentacle inside the ball of water. His eyes flutter closed and he nearly moans as relief floods over him. This is what he needs. He reaches the other arm in as well, tentacles waving gently within the globe’s self-sustained current.  

“Graves? What are you doing?” Newt’s voice sounds behind him.

Graves’ head lolls lazily over his shoulder, a placid smile spreading over his face. “The water,” he says by way of explanation. “It feels incredible.”

Newt grimaces, scratching at the nape of his neck. “Well, I suppose I should have seen this coming,” he mutters, heading over towards Graves. His hand closes around the back of Graves’ shirt and he tries to pull him away.

Graves turns as if surprised by his efforts, one tentacle slipping free of the water, dripping wet. “Don’t you want to feel good too?” he breathes, winding it around Newt’s arm.

Newt goes stock-still with surprise, eyes fixed on the slippery tentacle creeping its way up his arm. “I… um.”

“Consider it a preemptive thank you,” Graves says, pulling his other tentacle free and sliding it along Newt’s chest, down, down, to the waistband of his pants. “For when you fix me.”

Newt flushes red as the tip of Graves’ tentacle edges into his boxers. “You should stop,” he says, though it sounds like he’s struggling to speak. “You’re not in your right mind.”

Graves laughs, a low, inviting sound. “Trust me, Newt. I know exactly what I’m doing.” Graves wraps his tentacle around Newt’s cock, stroking it until he feels it hardening under his touch.

Newt shudders and leans into Graves, hips pressing forward of their own accord. “I hadn’t any idea you felt that way,” he breathes against Graves’ neck.

Graves winds his other tentacle around Newt’s back, following the trail of his spine ever lower. “I have a reputation to keep up,” he says, slipping into Newt’s pants on the opposite side. “I can’t go falling for curly-haired ex-convicts.”

The tip of his tentacle presses into Newt’s hole ever so slightly, Newt clamping his lips shut on a gasp.

Graves bends his head forward, skimming his teeth over the shell of Newt’s ear. “Even if I’ve wanted to fuck them since I first laid eyes on them.” He wraps his tentacle a little more firmly around Newt’s cock and squeezes.

Newt can’t keep back a gasp that time, canting his hips forward, seeking _more more more_.

Graves slips his other tentacle fully inside him, pressing up and seeking out the small cluster of nerves he knows will drive Newt wild. He doesn’t have to guess when he finds it.

Newt’s hand shoots out to curl into the lapel of Graves’ coat and he moans, low, filthy, desperate.

Graves knows exactly what he wants and he gives it to him. He increases the pace of both tentacles, reaching forward to capture Newt’s bottom lip between his teeth. He tugs gently before releasing it with an almost wicked smirk. “Come.”

Newt obeys, grip on Graves’ coat turning white knuckled. He shudders in Graves’ grip, drifting back to himself slowly. When Newt opens his eyes it takes a second for him to really focus.

“You know I came out here to tell you that I think I found a way to fix these,” Newt says, patting Graves’ tentacles as they slide back over his body.

Graves heaves a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. Although,” he says slyly, “I’m glad I was able to get some good use out of them first.”  


End file.
